The Wreckage
by darlingmess
Summary: He wishes he could do something, instead of just watching it all fall apart.


Standard Disclaimers Apply

The Wreckage

The sky is a pale blue, white clouds float along its surface like leaves on water; a passing ripple in a churning current. The sun a bright yellow and orange swirl in the mist of the peace, it's ever reaching arms staining the blue, crying tears of amber and gold. The occasional blur flies past, a black ever moving dot. The earth beneath is alive, buildings tall and haughty, are dotted along the high street, cars, taxies and buses drive by a symphony of colours, reds dancing into blue, black, green, yellow, its unorganised state is blissful, oddly so.

People, a sea of faces; blurring into one. All clad in vibrant, dashing colours, mixing. A man, a boy really, of about twenty-three years walks down the street, a soft almost unrecognisable smile playing on lips. He is thinking of her, rich red hair, swaying gently in the breeze as they sit on the riverside, the sound of the lapping water soothing, soft, a background noise, the silver moon staring down at them, making the trees around them glow ethereal; the sight of her in a white, v-neck, knee length sun dress, she is breath taking.

Shaking his head the man sighs, running a hand through his short, floppy black locks, brushing it out of his clear blue eyes. He fixes the strap on his black messenger bag smoothing it across his chest; he thrusts his hands into the pockets of his black leather bomber jacket, that easy going smile still dancing along his lips.

Walking for about half an hour he comes to a stop along a side road off the high street, where the sidewalk has less people; shoving each other, rushing around. The buildings are cleaner and still have their shine; an apartment complex. Shielding his eyes against the weeping sun he looks up, staring at the reddish brown bricks, his eyes travelling higher towards the top of the thirty storey building, he likes the way the sun bounces off the crystal clear windows; creating rainbows, the way the bricks seem alive smiling almost, but then again most unlikely, they are bricks after all, he shakes his head, stilling smiling, that was a stupid thought. Ignoring this he walks into the lobby and stops at the elevator doors watching the dial above him swing at each floor, he listens to the ding as the hand hits each roman numeral.

He allows his eyes to roam the empty elevator; the metallic surfaces seem to shine artificial light sticking to it, the buttons glittering and silver, he suddenly freezes, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his lips set into a tight red line, wondering why he is so uncharacteristically what... happy, jovial, cheerful? Why the world is so abruptly rose tinted? Slowly the storm raging about his face clears, he knows why, the answer is so glaringly obvious; Kori.

She is the reason for his high spirits, his love sick smile, and the brightness of his eyes. Her and her alone, he lets an inaudible chuckle loose, he hangs his head, he is fighting the cheek splitting grin attempting to conquer his face, and trying to quell the rapid beating of his heart that comes with thinking of her.

He looks up as the elevator dings, the fifteenth floor; he steps into the hall, the laminate flooring making his black and blue Vans squeak lightly. He looks up counting the number of over head florescent lights; twelve. Turning left he pauses to look at the art work, a mixture of Pop Art, Hyperrealism and Photographs adorn the walls. He runs a hand along the white washed walls enjoying the way it feels, silky and smooth, against the tips of his fingers. He pauses once more just staring into the distance of the long hallway at the single, round table, in front of the floor length window, with a gold floral patterned bone china vase holding a dozen red roses he continues walking. Stopping at her door he runs a hand over his hair, checking its state, he smoothes out his clothes patting out any wrinkles in his dark red form fitting t-shirt, he frowns, his brow creasing, thinking of when exactly he became so obsessed with his appearance.

Knocking her door he steps backwards, a nervous fluttering starts in his stomach, setting his nerves on end, waiting he taps his foot impatiently, what could be taking her so long? A thought unbidden and doubtful blooms in his mind; what if she was not expecting him? What if she was with someone else? He shakes his head swallowing the bile rising in his throat; Kori wouldn't do that to him... no she was not like that. A moment later he hears the lock click, and sees the chrome door handle twist.

The white door opens, a woman of about twenty-three is stood in the doorway; Kori, her head is down, her brilliant red hair covering her face, blocking her pretty features from view, she looks up, a large smile is on her face, its radiance giving warmth, like the sun. Stepping forward she wraps her arms about his neck, her head buried in his chest, her gentle laughter is muffled. He wraps his arms around her, rubbing his hand up and down her spine, he sighs, at this she looks up, watching him with green eyes through red lashes.

"Hello, Richard." Kori says brightly, she runs a hand through his hair, clenching the dark locks playfully. Dick smiles, resting his head against hers, closing his eyes he breathes her in, vanilla and something he cannot quite put his finger on. He likes this, being close, holding her; he likes the way she fits into him. The smile upon his face is getting larger.

"Hi Kor," he says still holding her, she pulls away holding him at arm's length, Dick watches her, his eyes alight with humour.

"Will you come inside?" Kori asks her head tipping to the side, her voice a tone he cannot refuse, nodding he follows her into her apartment, noting the startling change of colours, a pleasant change from the clean almost clinical white of the hallways. Kori's home, he thinks, is warm; burnt umber paint covers the walls, splashes of brighter colours come from the vivid art work, placed randomly on the walls, he touches the golden coloured frame of one; a photograph of a single rowing boat sat on the grassy river banks. The living room is small, a black leather sofa and arm chair are pointing at the flat screen television above the electric fireplace, the kitchenette to the left is open plan, the counters a sparkling granite.

He turns to Kori watching her flittering around the kitchenette, opening and closing cabinets fishing out glasses, he trails his eyes across her body, unable to do otherwise, he laughs a little when he notices she is wearing his grey sweatpants, four sizes too large they hang low on her hips. He watches in fascination when the sleeve of her plum coloured t-shirt rolls up her arm baring her amber flesh to the world, when she reaches for plates.

Dick circles the room, placing his jacket and bag on the dark wooden coat hanger, sitting on the sofa he turns to the television switching it on using the remote; he flicks through the channels before settling on the news station. Hearing the clang of the glass against the rectangle Maple coffee table Dick looks up into the face of Kori, seeing her warm, cosy smile he cannot help but smile in return, he pats the space next to him waiting for her to sit, he moves so she is snuggling against his side, he slings an arm over her shoulder squeezing her arm a little. This, he thinks, is good.

Dick runs his fingers through Kori's hair, captivated by the sight of it, its brilliant red enticing him like flames. He turns his head looking out of the window only just noticing that the sky is now a dark richer shade of blue, white shimmering specks dot the sky, the moon fat and well fed in the sky, night has fallen. He watches her, the gentle curve of her lips, the half moon shadows her eyelashes cast. Resting his head against hers Dick sighs, that tiny, content smile back on his face.

He is startled by the sudden slamming of the front door, turning he squints his eyes against the bright light shining through, he sees the silhouette of a woman she closes the door darkness consuming her. Hollow steps ring around the room as the woman goes to the light switch, flicking it on the room is aglow with yellow light, shining in the corridor leading to the bedrooms.

"Hey Kori, Dick?" she says her voice a dull monotone, her black eyebrow raised in question, - one he will not answer - her mouth a thin line painted in plum, in her black long sleeved shirt, her straight leg jeans a dark grey and her black knee length cardigan, she looks mean hostile even, but judging from the small flicker of affection in her gaze, she's not.

"Hello friend, Rachael, how are you?" Kori asks, standing she gathers the glasses and plate placing a soft kiss to Dick's forehead, she walks to the kitchenette on her way she smiles at Rachael, jerking her head towards the phone placed on the breakfast counter. A sly grins crosses her face, a mischievous light comes to her eyes as she says, "Garfield has called" dropping the dishes into the sink with a clang, Kori continues "I have a messa-"

Rachael bends her head fiddling uncharacteristically with her short black hair "I don't care, whatever."

"Oh," Kori says walking back to Dick, her voice heavy with humour, "you do not want to hear the message he asked me to relay?" pausing to band her hair she says "Very well, I shall not tell you that he wishes to thank you for the -what did he call it- wonderful date last week, and I shall not say that he hopes to have more."

"He really said that?" Rachael asks before a dark crimson hue covers her normally pale face, "I mean, so what, who gives a shit. It's just Gar." She finishes in a mumble.

"Oh, hush friend Rachael, phone him, I am sure he will love to hear from you," Kori said laughing under her breath, going to Dick she holds her hand out twiddling her fingers, she beckons for him to stand, clasping his hand in hers she says, "come Richard, it is late." Dick nods following her down the dim corridor off the side of the living room. He mimics her as she bids Rachael goodnight.

A feeling of dread or nerves, he cannot decide, settle in Dick's stomach, walking towards her room he cannot help but wonder if he should take his leave, if he should go home, that he has out stayed his welcome. He speaks in a voice much unlike his own, soft and unsure; "I can go home now, Vic's probably wondering where I am, I should go..." Turning Kori cocks her head confusion evident in her eyes, she goes to him, pulling him into her room, the colour devours him, the cream coloured walls, seem dark to him, silly, because he knows when the lights are on the room is bright and airy. Even in the dark the four posters oak bed seems warm and inviting though.

"Why? And besides, Richard, it is much too dark." She undoes her hair, letting it down, running a hand through she says, "Stay, please?"

Nodding he is dumb struck, his eyes soften as he sees her smile, he watches her walk to her chest of drawers in the corner of the room, she pulls out her nightwear a white camisole and red and grey plaid cotton knee length sleep shorts. He shifts self consciously when she comes back towards him; she stands on tip toes and kisses his cheek.

"I shall not be long, please; if you wish to get changed do so." Kori says, laughing she runs her hand through his hair at his bright red face, her voice soft and gentle. "Richard, I will be in the bath room. Get changed."

Watching her go through the door, he smacks a hand to his forehead dragging it over his face, well that could have gone better, he thinks as he pulls his shirt over his head, and unbuckles the belt on his jeans letting them slide down his legs, his legs feel bare with just his white and blue stripped boxers on. He lets out a sigh, where is he going to sleep; he doesn't think Kori will want him in her bed that thought although entirely plausible dismays him, he groans hanging his head in his hands. He bends to pick up his clothes; folding them he puts them on a wooden chair with a padded seat next to the Oak vanity under the window.

The door lets out a low whine as he opens it, he goes into the hall, knocking on the third door down, he enters the pale blue tiled bathroom, the grey floor tiles are cold on his bare feet, he shivers, he turns hearing a soft giggle seeing Kori stood at the basin, he pulls a face. Slowly he walks over to her, standing behind her he wraps his arms about her waist, pulling her to his chest he sighs, breathing her in. She turns around in his arms, placing her arms around his neck, she leans up resting her lips against his, blue eyes close leisurely savouring the moment enjoying the feel of her lips; soft and sweet, Dick leans into her applying pressure; hearing her sigh he grins.

"Richard," Kori calls, he stops browsing her bookshelf turning to look at her he gestures for her to go on, "are you ready to go to bed?"

He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with his chest bare, "Umm... yeah, do you want me to sleep on the floor? I don't mind, I want to- no... I mean I-I umm..." he feels heat flooding to his face like waves crashing onto the beach, he is bombarded. And her laughter is only making it worse, not that he minds her laughing, he knows it probably funny watching him get so flustered, but he wishes she would just tell him what to do, because he thinks he might get sun burn, or something.

"I am sorry for laughing Richard... you may sleep with me? Do you find that acceptable?" Standing from her position at the vanity she stops brushing and banding her hair, she goes to him, not waiting for an answer, and pulls him to her bed. Pushing him under the white, silky covers she climbs in next to him, laying her head on his chest she places her hand there feeling the rapid beating of his heart.

Now, he feels unwell, queasy like the world has been flipped upside down and he's forgotten which way is up. Keeping perfectly still he waits, waits for the frantic beating of his heart to subside, and his breathing to even out so he doesn't make a complete fool of himself, because he knows he's done that enough times already.

After a while he lifts his arm up and drapes it across Kori's shoulders rubbing her arm, he feels at ease now, comfortable even, although he knows he'll never be completely at ease when he's barely dressed with Kori laying besides him, but he likes to think so. The curtains are left open the sliver light of the ghostly moon shines through, throwing shadows along the room each time a cloud passes, making the items in the room dance.

Turing his head Dick watches Kori, mesmerised by the way the light catches her hair making it other worldly, he is fixated by the way her skin seems to glow, the way she seems to shine with beauty, an innocence so strong it draws him, like a moth to a flame. Raising his other hand he places it on top of hers on his chest, intertwining her golden fingers with his own.

"Richard?" Kori asks her voice muffled by Dick's chest, her lips moving against his skin. Dick suppresses a shiver, he was drifting asleep, but he's fully awake now.

"Hmm... Kor?" Dick says his tone lazy.

"How was your day?" Dick laughs his body humbling with it, like the sky with thunder. He clutches her, still chuckling, he cranes his neck pressing his lips to her forehead.

"What brought that on? I mean it's nearly -what-" he lifts his head looking over her shoulder at the bedside alarm clock, "one in the morning?"

Kori raises her head to look at him, her green eyes soft, heavy and tired "I was just curious? You do not mind, do you?"

Pushing her head back to his chest he answers, "No, I don't mind, it was just random that's all." Dick huffs his eyebrows creasing, "Nothing much happened, ran some errands for Bruce, went back to the pent house hung out with Vic and Karen and then came here."

"Oh." Her words swallowed by a yawn, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand she nods, "that sounds like fun."

"Yeah... not so much. Kori?" He rocks her gently; in turn she shifts on him, mumbling her hands clasps at his neck hanging on.

Again he asks "Kor, you awake love?" Smiling Dick shakes his head, "no, of course not." Rubbing her arms once more enchanted by the feel of it, like silk against his finger tips, he closes his eyes, darkness engulfing him.

"Goodnight Kori."

It is morning. Sunlight creeps through the window washing the room in golden rays; it dyes the walls making it glow; bright and airy. Dick stirs, turning on his side, he grumbles under his breath, grabbing for the covers. He smiles in his sleep when he feels soft, warm hands wrap around his torso. A shiver runs through him when deft fingers wander across his chest, walking up and down the length of his muscles. Cracking his eyes open the world seems a blur, a mixture of intense colour, making his eyes water.

A girlish giggle rings in the air, blinking her green eyes Kori shakes her head, letting her hair fly about softly whipping Dick's face, she smiles lovingly as he lazily swats the air about him. Rising to a sitting position, her features clear, her eyes become unfocused, faraway; she is thinking about Dick. He is her Richard; soft, worrisome, gentle, passionate, fearsome Richard.

"Come back to bed." Dick says his voice heavy with sleep.

"I have not left." Tapping her finger to her mouth Kori continues coyly, "But perhaps I should, you must not be allowed to become too comfortable." Kori laughs high and sliver when Dick grumbles fiercely. Rolling onto his back Dick stares unseeingly at the ceiling, his vision fuzzy rubbing his eyes he yawns and stretches, his body shuddering with the motion. Closing his eyes he stays like his for a moment, covered by the white duvet and caked in yellow sun, just thinking. After a while Dick rolls onto his side, facing Kori, a sly smile crosses his face. With quick yank on her hand he drags her down to the bed, the covers ruffling slightly with the force, he sat there red faced and flushed watching her, rumpled and beautiful, the sun glowing about her, like halo.

A few moments later Kori glared her normally gleeful eyes, now are hard and piercing, "Richard!"

Barely stifling laughter Dick choked out, "Took you long enough, Kor."

"Do the shutting of it."

Tugging on her hair Dick says distractedly, "Don't be like that, babe," receiving no answer Dick huffs rolling onto her, he laughs softly at her playful trashing about, her useless attempts at pushing him off. Ignoring his he leans down, so his breath ghosts along her face he closes the distance between them brushing his lips against hers. Allowing her eyes to slide close, Kori sighs, leaning into the kiss, she runs her fingers through his hair, clutching at it when she hears him growl, her toes curl.

The leather padded breakfast stool is cold and slick, making Dick shift uncomfortably. The living area is alive with noise; the TV blaring stuck on the music channel, the kitchenette is singing with the clattering of pans, the sizzle of the frying pan on the hob, and the almost inaudible background noise of Kori singing.

A door slams open accompanied by a curse, footsteps light as air padded down the hall, from the darkness two pale feet stand, a layer of dark nail varnish covering the toes, coming into the light of the living room, Rachael squints at the brightness, going to the window she drags the curtains closed complaining of; 'sunshine and rainbows and useless shit'. Coming back to the breakfast bench she stumbles slightly, stubbing her toe, she grimaces and continues, albeit limping. Dropping onto the stool beside Dick she hangs her head in her hands, grumbling to herself.

She turns her head to look at Dick through narrow eyes, "Great, that's exactly what I needed to see at 10 am on a Saturday morning; Dick in his boxers" she smiles, tight lipped and sarcastic.

Rolling his eyes Dick grins throwing an arm over Rachael's shoulder pulling her to him he says in a sing song tone of voice, "Good morning to you too Rach-e."

"If you want it to stay a good morning I suggest you get the fuck off me." Rachael replies, a vein below her eyebrow pulsing slightly in annoyance, she swats Dick's arm off her. "Oh and don't call me that, dumbass."

Turning around Kori laughs under her breath, watching them. The sound of sizzling bacon rings in her ears, the smell of it wafts about the room, lazy like a cloud. She goes to the fridge taking out, orange juice, ham, eggs, peppers and cheese, closing the fridge she places all these on the counter. The bacon starts to spit violently; hurriedly she goes to the hob turning it off she sighs. Rachael is stood next to her, fanning Kori away, she says, "Go and make your omelettes, I'll do the bacon."

The door bell chimes suddenly loud and irritating. Dick gets up going to the door he pulls it open, his brow drawn in annoyance. He is greeted by the sight of a man, tall, but still shorter than him by about two inches. He is dressed in a dark green t shirt which is creased and wrinkled his jeans are light blue, ripped and torn in places. The man smiles waving goofily, Dick steps to the side allowing the man in, the look of irritation of his face clears.

The man looks about the room, glancing into the darkness of the hallway, he sniffs the air his lips turning down at the corners, is that meat, he thinks to himself. He looks in the direction of the living room, staring at the TV for a moment, he mouths along to the words of the song bopping his head in time to the beat.

Hands wrap about his neck, a warm body pressed up against his, he swallows a yelp, he closes his eyes tightly. Blinking, he only sees red, masses and masses of red. "Hey Kori!" He wraps his arms about her waist.

" Garfield, it is pleasant to see you." Kori said her words drowned out, by his chest pulling away from him she walks back to the kitchenette. "I am making you something special!"

Chuckling uneasily he smiles, "Thanks, Kor." Sniffing the air once mare, a frown sprang back to Garfield's lips, with his green eyes narrowed, he stalks after Kori. Stopping behind Rachael he looks over her shoulder, his frown deepening Garfield all but screams, "Rachael, do you know what that is? Its meat! Once a living creature; could've been you, M-E-A-T."

Turning her head slightly Rachael arches an eyebrow at him, her tone sarcastic but oddly laced with some form of affection, "Wow you can spell, Rita must be proud. And it only took you what twenty-two years? That's got to be some sort of record."

Huffing he drapes his arms about Rachael's waist Garfield rests his head on her shoulder; he rubs his chin against her soft flesh, the day old stubble rough, he runs his finger along her dark blue silken tank top, it feels like water. Staring at where the skin meets he is mesmerised by the stark contrast of colour, her pale skin almost grey, and his golden tan.

"Hey" Garfield asks, "when's Vic and Karen getting here?" unwrapping his arms from Rachael's waist he pulls put his phone, he twists it about in this hand between its forefinger and thumb before flipping it open, he smiles at his screen; a picture of him and Rachael, his cheek pressed to hers smiling for the camera. Snapping out of his daze he writes in Victor's number, he waits a while before speaking, a series of grunts and nods, the occasional bout of impish laughter, ending the conversation he is still smiling. Brushing his blond hair out of his eyes he says, "So, he said they're coming and..." he says drawing out the word, "he wants to know what Dickey Boy got up to last night, cos apparently he didn't- Ow!" Rubbing his head he looks down staring at the rolled up newspaper, "Okay" Garfield said his voice indignant, "who the fuck threw that!"

"I did, so shut up would you? Dip shit." Ground out Dick from his seat on the sofa, his white mug held tightly in his hand, red faced and oddly smug, he asks for his newspaper back. He ducks as it flies passed his head, flopping noisily on the floor next to the coffee table.

Grumbling under his breath Garfield lays his head back on Rachael's shoulder, kissing her neck gently he pulls her closer.

"You... you didn't go home last night?" Rachael asks, her voice quiet, intimate.

"No, had the graveyard shift at the clinic." He frowns his brow creasing, "Maybe graveyards the wrong word..."

The sofa dents slightly when Garfield slumps down, propping his feet on the coffee table he grabs for the remote, turning the TV down he flips through the channels, stopping at cartoons, he watches amused, his laughter is abrupt and scratchy.

The door slams open, banging against the wall, the room is flooded with light, bright yellowish white light streaming through catching the stray particles of dust in its gaze. The clash of colours the white of the building hallway and the reddish brown of the apartment seem unreal blinding almost, it's disconcerting in its difference. Two silhouettes stand in the mist of it, one large and bulky; a man, the other a stark contrast, small petite and feminine; a woman. Yelping Garfield jumps from his seat on the sofa.

"Howdy ya'll!" calls Victor closing the door the light goes, burnt out like a dying flame. He waves when Kori calls to him, telling him to come and hug her, he does so a large smile lighting at his lips. He steps forward leaning over the back of the arm chair, his thin black tie hangs over, swinging backwards and forwards slightly.

Straightening up he rolls the sleeves of his Colombia Blue coloured collared shirt up, the expanse of his mahogany coloured forearm showing, muscled and firm. He walks around the chair sitting on it; he crosses one ankle across his knee, his dark blue jeans wrinkling slightly, he leans into the chair sighing, looking over at Dick and Garfield he raises an eyebrow, "Dick would you do the world a favour and put on a shirt?" shaking his head he continues, "because good God nobody wants to see your man boobs."

"Speak for yourself." Karen says sitting on the breakfast bench she fans herself raising a hand to her forehead she swoons jokingly, standing she winks at Dick before fixing the ruffles on her black multi-tier mid thigh length skirt, walking around the bench she goes to the fridge digging out a can of coke she smoothes out her yellow and black lace vest top, greeting Kori and Rachael she goes to sit on the arm of Victor's chair.

Looking to Kori Dick frowns, raising his eyebrow in question. "I don't have man boobs and what are you... oh." Dick says his cheeks taking on a red hue, he smiles sheepishly, pulling the newspaper closer to his chest, he stands ignoring the wolf whistle from the girls, he all but runs to Kori's bedroom. The living room is quiet, save the sound of rustling in the kitchenette and the noise from the TV, the clanging of plates ring throughout the room. Moving to sit on Victor's lap Karen snuggles into his chest, resting her head on his shoulder she closes her eyes. Smiling softly to himself Victor wraps his arms about Karen's waist his fingers interlacing with hers.

"Hey," Garfield asks, "how comes you got a key?"

"Because the girlies, obviously love me the most." Victor says his leaning his head on Karen's.

"Food's ready," Rachael calls from the kitchen, "get it yourself."

Having gathered her food, Rachael sits on the sofa making space for Garfield when he comes to sit beside her, lifting his arm she places it about her shoulders moving into his side she begins to eat. The curtains are closed, but muted light still creeps through, and the TV is off, the room is coated in darkness, a warm all encompassing darkness. Looking about the room Rachael thinks to herself, they need to redecorate, a change would be... nice.

Rachael looks to her side when she feels the sofa dip slightly she watches through veiled eyes Dick and Kori; the way they sit so very close to each other, the way he tends to pull her to him, wanting, she guesses, to be close. Adverting her eyes she frowns to herself, staring at the empty plate she placed on the coffee table, she stiffens when she feels a hand, warm and oddly soft, run through her hair, fingering the inky strands, the hand travels lower stopping at her neck, a puff of warm air brushes her skin, its only Gar.

"I was thinking of dying my hair." Rachael says breaking the soft, friendly silence; she blushes lightly when all eyes rest on her, she pretends not to notice the excited and girlish light to Kori and Karen's gaze. "Purple maybe, a dark purple; violet?"

Rubbing her neck Garfield looks on contemplatively, a smile bright and gleeful bounces about on his face, "If you're dying your hair purple, I'm dying mine green."

Rolling her eyes Rachael hits Garfield on the chest, leaving her hand to rest there, "Forget I said anything." She said her voice a mumble.

Dick sits with his arm about Kori's shoulder, a soft easy going smile dancing on his lips, he's happy, he's with his girlfriend, his friends; all those who he loves. Listening to the mumble of easy conversation, he leans his head on Kori's breathing her in, he smiles again wanting nothing more than to stay like this, with her, with his friends, all together. When Kori rest her hand on his chest he sighs, placing his hand on hers, leaning down he places a gentle kiss to her forehead. Life, he thinks, is good.

A bitter wind carries off the auburn and golden coloured leaves covering the high street, long gone is the warmth of summer, autumn is here dragging with it a chilling cold and the foul stench of darkness. The sky is a deeper, richer blue, night has fallen, no glittering white specks litter its surface only a fat and greedy moon. People, late night commuters mill about the streets, coats and jackets drawn tightly to themselves, their faces drawn in; angry and red.

Soft feather light rain falls down from the unforgiving heavens, splattering the sidewalk gathering puddles, which ripple with each new drop that smashes its surface. The sound of footsteps mingles with the scream of buses and cars rushing down the black and slick road. Voices blur into once, an incessant drone, bright neon lights flash, blinding. The buildings are coated in shadows, long and ghastly they stand, indifferent they look down, delighting in the misfortune of others.

A man walks swiftly down the street, with his head down he uses a newspaper as an umbrella, his face is twisted into a scowl, Dick hates the rain, it's bleak and dull, he thinks, he hates the way it drags on, warring with the normally clear skies, drowning the world in its trademark misery. Above him a street lamp flickers on, he glances up smiling slightly he moves on. He quickly goes into the subway; he shakes his head a little, sending droplets of water flying everywhere. He waits a while before his train rolls into the station, he sit turning his head to stare at the black tunnel walls, he smiles a little at the odd flashes of colourful graffiti, before he gets bored; this is going to be a long ride.

Dick comes out of the subway and onto the street, the rain has stopped, but the world is still in its haze, water covers the slick ground, making Dick's shoes squeak with every step. Shops line the street, bright florescent lights still shine, neon signs still flash over head. Dick thrust his hands into his pockets, his head bent he begins to walk along the road. He ignores the many people bumping into him, accepting the occasional grumbled apology with an uneasy smile and a nod. The rain has become a light drizzle, still as persistent and oppressive, but at least somewhat more bearable. The streets are nearly empty now, fewer people crowd the walk ways. Some shops are still open lights glow bright from inside them, warming him, but only a little, the chill has seeped into his bones.

Dick stops outside an Art Gallery, the lights are still on, so Kori must still be inside he thinks, he goes towards the glass door, his hand resting on the bronze door handle. Pushing it he smiles at the warmth, looking up the smile slides of his face.

With her back to him Kori is holding a painting, its large gold frame between her hands, she is walking to a clear expanse of white wall she stops turning her head slightly she calls over her shoulder, a man around Dick's age come into view, going to Kori he stops behind her; over shadowing her. He places his hands on her shoulders, he presses into her leaning his head on her neck he whispers something to her ear.

His lips are hovering dangerously close, almost brushing against her skin.

He goes to press his mouth to her neck.

Dick's knuckles turn white griping the door; he can see the bone, poking out trying to burst from his skin, breathing deeply he closes the door. Stepping out into the street he frowns his blue eyes are cloudy; a storm is brewing.

It's gloomy in Richard's pent house when Kori enters, the blinds are closed, and the grey walls look darker than usual. She calls out for him as she puts her knee length black rain coat on the coat hanger. She frowns wondering if she should have knocked; no Richard gave her a key for a reason.

She looks around his home glancing at the white leather sofa before walking to a light switch flicking it on she is startled by the sudden sound of his voice.

"Turn it off." Richard calls from his place lying down on the sofa with his head pillowed in his hands and his knee bent.

"Oh, but it is very dark Richard, shall I not just-" Kori answers him.

"Turn it off." Richard says this voice more forceful now, angry even.

"Okay, yes..." Kori says. She flicks the light off; she is unsure, timid now that has she upset him in some way. She goes to the sofa bending she hangs over him resting her arms on the back on the back of the sofa. Bringing her hand down to run it through his hair she bites back a gasp when he jerks his head out of her grasp.

Walking round the sofa she kneels in front of him asking, "Richard what is the matter?"

Dick frowns ignoring her, how can she act like that, so loving, so caring? It's all an act. How could he have not seen that before, she never loved him, no she never did, just wanted a companion some to keep the bed warm, that's all it ever was. But still he finds himself holding onto some shred, some hope that she actually did love him. (At some point at least.)

He sits up swinging around so his feet are on the floor, glancing at her he sees love so clearly in her eyes, he frowns; no it's just an act. Standing he walks around the rectangle glass coffee table and to the door which leads to the kitchen, shoving open the white swinging door, he turns on the light; he roughly opens the fridge dragging out a beer.

She's followed him, he knows she has. He can feel her, smell her; vanilla and something he can't quite put his finger on. Popping the cap on the can he chugs the beer in loud gulps, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth he slams the can on the granite counter top of the kitchen island. He drags himself out of her embrace when Kori wraps her arms about his waist.

"Please Richard if there is something bothering you, please discuss it with me." Kori says her voice desperate, tight.

Dick spins round harshly catching Kori by surprise, he averts his eyes upon seeing her, but he still sees her wrap her arms about herself pulling her emerald green knitted cardigan closer, he bought that for her on her birthday.

"Please Richard, just speak to me." Kori is desperate now, wanting to fix whatever she's done wrong. "If I have done anything to upset you I apologise. I apologise so ardently."

"Do you love me?" Dick asks in a voice unlike his own, its quiet timid, with a sense of anxiety laced into it.

"Yes, of course I do." Kori replies why does he doubt this, she was sure she had made her feeling clear, and so very sure that she had told him many times. Coming closer she traps him between herself and the island, lifting her hands she places them either side of his face, making him look her in the eye.

"I love you, why do you feel you need to ask?"

It's good, good to hear her say it, to hear her say the words she would chant under her breath when he would hold her, kiss her, own her. But no, she doesn't mean that she probably says that to the other man, other men she has. Dick grabs hold of her wrist, his hold so strong it hurts.

"No!" he shouts his voice echoing about the kitchen. "No, you're lying, you're a liar!" Wrenching her hands from his face he pushes her way so there is some space between them, he tightens his hold on her wrists.

"You're a liar! I saw you, saw you with him!" He breathes deeply his grip on her increasing, he can see that she's pain that her wrists are turning a violent shade of red, the skin about her wrists is cracking but still he doesn't care, not now, in a few minutes, a few hours maybe, but not now.

"Richard, let go, it hurts." Kori struggles against him, her eyes watering, "Who, who are you talking about."

"Him! That man at the Art Gallery. The man who you're cheating on me with, that's who." Dick's eyes are wild, angry; his normally calm face is red and hard.

"No, Richard please, - you, you were at the Art Gallery?" She stops her struggling, "You were at the Art Gallery today?"

"Yes, what difference does it make?"

"When?" Her voice fanatic.

"Around five," Dick answers, what did that have to do with anything, "is that when you and he go out for dates?"

"No, no! He, the man you speak of, is Xavier, a friend of mine; he works with me at the Gallery."

Great so now the bastard had a name. "Oh, that's great, just fucking wonderful." Dick said, then his voice turns malicious, "So this 'Xavier' is he a better fuck than me?" Pulling her closer he continues, "Does he love you like I do? Or is he just a really good fuck?"

Blinking back tears - frustration - Kori stares at him, her green eyes damp and sad - nonplussed, she looks away, a pang of something shots through her chest, she must make this better. She must prove to him her affections her _undying,_ ever faithful love. Cure him of his paranoia. (This vicious disease.)

"No! Richard, I have not done anything with him, why do you think this? I have not as so much as looked at another man." Kori wiggles her fingers, trying to get the feeling back in them. She just cringes when pins and needles shot through her hand. Ignoring this she steps ever closer to him, so that their bodies touch, standing on her toes she presses her lips gently to his, hoping to reassure him, to prove her attachment, her undying devotion.

Dick leans into her touch, wanting to forget, to forgive, ignore the pain bouncing about in his chest, to ignore the ache, the emptiness that's threatening to devour him. He snatches his lips away, pushing her back as he does it, "No." He pants, his breath choppy, shallow, "Don't you dare touch me." He squeezes tighter on her wrists. He feels something wet drip onto his hand, he's not sure if it's blood or tears. His nails dig into her flesh, probably blood.

He shakes his head, gathering up his anger, righteous indignation, "Think kisses will make this better? Huh, do you? Well it won't Kori. It won't!" He looks at her, his eyes holding no compassion; he's blinded by rage, distrust, and hate. "You're dead to me."

She stands there shocked; he cannot mean that, he cannot. He is hers like she is his. No he must not mean that, he is upset, and confused. "No, Richard please..." Her voice is quiet, broken, tears flow freely now, down her cheeks, along her jaw and onto her chest, her eyes are red and puffy, her sobs low and irregular, the tear tracks dry quickly, and are hidden by new fresher tears, they all blend into one. It's perverse in its beauty.

Fuck she is weak.

Suddenly she is blinded by rage, a bitter all encompassing rage. Her blood boils, it sends a fire down her veins, heaving her hands away, she stares at him, he has no right to judge her, to make false accusations, how dare he.

"You have no right! How dare you accuse me? I, who have loved you, cared for you. You have no right. You are a sad boy, pointing fingers without fact, shame on you." She walks away her footsteps precise and fierce, the clack of her ankle high heeled boots echoing about the kitchen, looking over her shoulder at the pale and still Dick, she says "You may come to when you are ready to apologise. I will not wait forever."

Shoving the door open she strides out. Roughly shrugging on her rain coat, Kori flicks her ponytail out, fixing her fringe; checking her make up in the mirror, she struts out of the front door.

He's still standing there, dazed and confused just staring at the spot where Kori once stood, hearing her words over and over again. Then he hears his own, he hears how biting, how cruel, how scathing they were. he leans back on the island, placing an open palmed hand down to steady himself, he barely notices that he's spilt the can of beer, or that now it's pooling on the floor and the can is rolling about, making the mess larger. He falls to his knees; sitting on his ankles he allows dry sobs to rack his body.

She closes the door to her apartment quietly, she treads carefully, like sudden movements could break her, putting her coat on the coat rack she goes to the kitchenette sink to wash her hands, she scrubs until her hands are raw, until her hands are red with pain, until she can see angry red gashes were her nails dug into her flesh. Flicking droplets of water onto her face she hangs her head, letting the tears build up anew.

"Kori, love? Is that you?" Karen asks from her seat on the sofa, she turns her head, catching Kori's eye she stands, her hands on her hip Karen steps over to Kori. Placing a delicate hand on Kori's shoulder she pulls the girl closer.

Kori cries she cannot help it, and besides she cannot hide from Karen. Leaning into her Kori rests her head on Karen's shoulder, ignoring the feel of her tears on Karen's pale blue v-neck sweater. She takes comfort in the warm and loving hand Karen placed on the back of her head, stroking her hair. Kori allows herself to be pulled to the sofa, sitting down she lays her head on Karen's lap. With her arms around Karen's waist, she allows her violent sobs to subside.

Feeling the sofa dip Kori clenches her eyes shut, she's made a scene. She feels someone pick her up, and place her on their lap she turns her head, staring the person in the face; it's Victor. He looks mad. But his grey eyes are gentle.

"What happened?" he asks his voice is soft inviting, like he wants to heal her; his little sister. "What's the matter Kor?"

She won't say anything, can't say anything, it hurts too much. So she sits, glancing up at Rachael when she comes to sit on the coffee table, she smiles watery and flitting when Rachael takes her hand. It hurts the pain, the stabbing of her heart is intense, she hates it, this deadening ache is unbearable, and she can't stand it.

Wiping her eyes she attempts to stand, "It is nothing, I am being foolish."

He's not letting her go, not until he knows what is going on, not until then. This fire in this heart, at the sight of one of his girls crying, won't be extinguished until he can fix this, or make her smile at least. But then the fire will still burn.

"Victor, please let me go, I wish to go to bed."

"No." He answers, firm and imploring. "Tell us, we want to help." He said gesturing to Karen and Rachael. When Kori doesn't answer he tightens his hold on her, his arms pulling her closer to his chest. Moving her hair out of her face he whispers, "Let us help."

With a shaking and soft voice Kori tells them.

Karen's eyes are hard, clenching her hands she stands, folding her arms she begins to pace, striding to the kitchenette, she slams her hands down on the counter, she hands her head. Turning sharply on her heels, she narrows her eyes dangerously.

"What! He's a total and complete ass." She points her forefinger at Kori, "At total and complete ass. Where the fuck does he get off? Accusing you of cheating on him?" Flopping angrily on the bar stood she finishes angrily. "Vic, sort out your boy, if you don't I will and he sure as hell won't want that."

Placing Kori on the sofa Victor stands; cracking his knuckles he grabs his G-Star Este Jacket shrugging it on before going to the front door. He looks over his shoulder when Kori calls to him, asking him to stay here, stay with her. He runs a hand over his head, feeling the rough stubbly smoothness of it, he nods sharply. He walks over to Karen sitting on the stool next to her; he glances at her, before grabbing her hand, cradling it in his own he smiles weakly when he notices how small and dainty it looks in his hand.

Rachael sits on the sofa, looking at Kori rubbing her wrist she wraps an arm around Kori placing Kori's head on her shoulder. Biting her lip Rachael asks, "What really happened, Kori? Between you and Xavier."

"He is a friend from work. He is very touchy, in the sense that he likes to hold people, literally touch them. He likes to do this to me. When Richard saw, I was not in a position to push him away." She pauses looking down and twiddling her thumb. "He made the wrong conclusion, and now I cannot fix this, I cannot make him see." Getting up she smiles weakly at her friends, at their protests she tells them she is just going to the bathroom.

Garfield is whistling when he walks into the kitchen, smiling to himself. There is a spring in his step as he walks over to the fridge, opening the brown paper shopping bag he has in his hand. Aloud he begins singing 'I'm walking on sunshine' he's out of tune and he knows it, but who cares when no one else is listening. Dropping the carton of milk he curses under his breath when it bursts before shrugging, he places the bag on the counter and bends to riffle though the cabinets, he's looking for the wash cloth.

"Okay, it's not in there..." he mumbles to himself. Standing he goes over to the island, he does a little dance on his way, chanting 'go Garffy' under his breath.

"Here you go."

"Oh, thanks matey." Garfield says before turning deathly pale he screeches, "If you're a ghost please don't eat me. I'm skinny and I have a girlfriend well sort of girlfriend... A girl who is a friend who I date, I have one of those..." He throws his hands out in front of himself; with his eyes closed tightly he gropes at the air. "Shit, this is bleak," he mutters under this breath, his situation or the fact he will die he's not too sure.

"I'm not a ghost, Gar." Looking around he sees Dick, sat on the floor, next to a puddle of beer. Garfield's decides not to comment on that.

"Oh... Dick, how's it going?" Garfield asks, crouching down, he looks at his friend a goofy smile plastered on his face. "Hey man, what's up? Give us a smile."

Glaring at him Dick stands, going to the sink he washes his hands, ripping off a kitchen towel he leaves the water running when he puts it in the bin. He ignores Garfield's rant about preserving the environment. Pushing the kitchen door open he sits on the sofa, running a hand through his hair he sighs.

Walking through the door Garfield flops into an arm chair, stretching before grabbing the remote he sets up the game station. "Well, aren't I a great friend, I just cleaned up all of your messes."

"Not now Gar..." Dick says through clenched teeth.

"Okay, I could have sworn Kori pulled that stick out of your ass."

"Shut up Gar."

"Geez, chill," Garfield said shaking his head, "try and make a joke."

The ache is getting stronger, more powerful; it hurts so much its blinding. He has to do something, tell someone. "I think- I've done something really bad." He glances up before continuing, "To Kori." He's looking down now; placing his hands in his lap he begins ringing his fingers.

With wide incredulous eyes Garfield asks, "What happened?"

"You'll hate me, when I'm done talking."

Coming to sit beside him Garfield answers, "I may be angry... but I'm your bro, I'll never really hate you." Worrying his bottom lip Garfield asks again, "What happened?"

The streets are dark, no one's around; and he's lonely. Dick is so very lonely; it has been weeks since Kori has last spoken to him, and why should she? He has hurt her, hurt her so greatly. But yet there is some shred of hope that she will speak, break this icy silence. Fill him with warmth once more, because now, now all he feels is a bitter, unforgiving cold.

Pausing momentarily, Dick flicks the collar of his black trench coat up, he smiles briefly, tight lipped and angry, thinking of how he looks; sad and lost. Probably. He wouldn't know he hasn't been able to look in the mirror for a while. The route to his home is long, it starts to rain light and troublesome little drops, which cause his hair to hang in little clumps, and fall into his eyes.

He closes the door to his pent house quietly, he puts his coat and messenger bad on the coat hanger, rolling the sleeves of his dark blue sweater up he flops onto the arm chair, he hangs his head in his hands, recoiling when his hands come away wet and sticky. The pent house is dark, miserable; Victor hasn't been home lately, choosing to spend his nights at the girls, with Karen.

Dick can't stand it, this unbearable silence. He hates it, feeling vulnerable, destructible, and breakable.

A thought strikes him, it sends a light through his veins, filling him with hope, it brings a fire, warmth to his bones, and for a moment he feels whole. He will call her, he'll call Kori and fix this, hear her side; listen.

Its late in the evening now, and its raining the rain is pouring hard, slamming itself on the window as the drops fall down they leave track marks on the glass, melding into one. The city outside is dark, it looks lonely and evil. The apartment blocks look black and angry, the occasional orange glow glares out of tiny square windows.

Thinking of this Dick glimpses at the cordless phone sat on the coffee table, he watches it with an odd glint in his eyes, and he stares, before picking up the phone. Breathing deeply he punches the keypad, with a sense of urgency. His breath is shallow and choppy, he grips the phone tighter when no one picks up after seven rings. Hanging up he tries again, typing Kori's number more carefully this time, still no one answers. The ice in his heart makes him cry out, swallowing tears he stands, grabbing his leather jacket he goes towards the garage.

Staring at his car; it's jaunty and overcompensating, Dick unlocks it, flopping into the car he presses his head against the cool leather of the steering wheel, wrapping his hands against it, he squeezes until his knuckles are white, the skin around it taunt and red. Shaking his head Dick sighs, it sounds like a hiss, long and breathy it hangs in the air, suffocating him. Looking at the passenger seat he smiles gently before frowning, remembering when Kori sat there, how she would play with all the buttons, and fiddle constantly with the radio station.

Revving his engine, once, twice Dick sets off, leaving tyre marks on the grey concrete of the garage, his head lights streak red against the black of the night.

It's raining harder than Dick realised, maybe he shouldn't be pushing eighty on the high way, but then he remembers Kori's face, stained red, and sad. He presses harder on the gas. He can barely see, between the blurry paths made by the raindrops and the occasional flashes of light from the lamps, the world around him is black, a dark, unforgiving black.

He can hear it, his tyres slipping on the slick highway, he hear, over the rumbling of the engine, he screeches of indignation the car makes, glancing in the rear view mirror he can see the other cars plodding along, slowly; they know not to rush in the rain, not to speed along the highway.

He can't concentrate, his mind keeps wandering. He can't keep still, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel, his knee bouncing, when it should be still and posed above the brake pedal. He keeps running a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes, patting it down. He's not wearing a seat belt.

He has to be faster, get there quicker, it'll be romantic and gallant he knows, when he turns up, slopping wet, and rugged at Kori's front door. He should stop by a florist, get some flowers, Irises, purple, blue and orange Irises they are her favourite. He'll bend on knees, take hold of her hand, look into her eyes and beg. And she'll forgive him, throw her arms about him in embrace, pepper his face with kisses and whisper her love. He knows, Dick knows it'll be gallant and brilliant.

But he can't, he can't.

He can here the honking of the passing, cars, the flashing tail lights; telling him to slow down. He can read the over head signs telling him and other drivers to slow down, but he ignores them, he has somewhere to be.

He doesn't see the eighteen wheel truck veer sharply to the right, he doesn't hear the blasting of its horn as the driver's head hits the steering wheel. He _does_, however, feel the cars smash together, their tin bodies creating violent sparks of amber light. He feels, before he can see the bumper of his car hit the railing separating the oncoming traffic, he feels before he sees himself fly through the windscreen.

He feels the shards of glass pierce his skin, he feels the tiny delicate bits of glass slice through his flesh, just above his left eye. Now he can see, he sees the blood drip down into his eye, blurring his vision, he see the truck wobble slightly, tipping to it right, leaning dangerously towards him, before righting itself. He tastes something metallic and bitter leek into his mouth; blood, he tries to raise a hand to wipe it away, but he can't it hurts too much.

He hears first his blood rushing about in his ears, then the speed of his breath. Then he can hear the cars, their tyres screeching, their horns screeching violently, and then he can hear shouts, frantic, fearful shouts. But he's in too much pain to care, he can barely move and his visions fraying at the edges. He can barely hear the people now, can barely hear their screams; their protests.

The rain seems to wash it all away, but his cuts bleed out, it's a puddle around him, like a halo. He tries calling out, but when he opens his mouth nothing comes, just gruff whispers, making his throat hurt. His head is throbbing, now an incessant pounding, the people are far too loud, the oncoming traffic is far too loud. Now he can hear sirens, vaguely he wonders how the ambulance got here so quickly. That noise should be reassuring, that help is on the way, but it's not, not reassuring at all.

He only wants Kori.

Kori. He has to find her, see her. Touch her, at least one more time. He has to fix this, he has to fix this, he has to fi-

As suddenly as everything started; the truck hitting him, him withering about in pain it stops; it all goes black.

-#-

The sky is calm, peaceful even, a few clouds float along its surface, lazily they are in no hurry. The clouds take on forms of animals in the gentle breeze, dogs, hippos, dragons, they occasionally drift before the amber sun, its rays still radiate out. In the distance there is a fence were a few animals; horses graze. The grass is lush and green; it's like a pillow, a bed, warm and inviting. The grass is velvety under Dick's hand; he clenches it lightly in his sleep.

Lying on his back, one hand pillowing his head, he looks peaceful, his features are clear; he's having a good dream. Yawning he wakes, leaning on his forearms, Dick runs a hand through his hair. Smiling he rubs his eyes before blinking languorously looking to the sky he grins widely, he loves the sun.

Dick rubs his side, ignoring the twitch of discomfort.

It's all so perfect. From the sky to the earth below, everything is wonderful. But something is missing, more specifically someone. He looks around, searching for her, Kori, maybe he'll find her soon. He looks about himself, fingering the sleeve of his crisp white collar shirt. Dick runs a hand over it; he likes how it feels under his skin, soft and smooth.

Hearing a soft light hearted giggle Dick turns, he stares on in wonder at the woman before him, she's wearing her white v-neck sundress, her ruby red hair billowing about her like a circle of light, like she's a goddess, and he loves it. She's standing in a patch of irises, waving Kori smiles at him warm and inviting. She opens her arms wide; wiggling her fingers she beckons him to her, like moth to a flame.

He goes to her; Dick's pace is slow like a walk, gradually increasing to a jog, his white linen trousers wafting around his legs with each stride. Reaching her he pulls Kori tightly towards him, their chest touching, he picks her up twirling her in the air. He does another twirl just revelling in the sound of her laughter. Placing Kori on the ground, Dick rests his head against hers, his laboured breathing coming out in puffs against her cheeks, and nose. Bending slightly Dick rubs his nose against hers before brushing his lips with hers.

Pulling away Dick smiles, wide and becoming. Dragging Kori closer he runs a hand though her hair, fingering the strands, flicking her fringe out of her eyes.

Kori presses kisses to Dick's face, her lips soft and haunting it makes Dick's skin tingle deliciously. Her hands interlacing with Dick's, Kori stands on her toes whispering, "Richard, my Richard."

Dick can't help the laugh that bubbles forth from his lips when Kori says this, he frowns when a biting pain shots up his spine, he ignores it though, dismissing it as unimportant. But he can't help the jerk of his leg when a tremor runs down his thigh, shaking his head, he thinks it doesn't matter.

When everything's so unimaginably perfect what does a little discomfort matter.

-#-

The white washed room is small, and stuffy, but no one moves to open the windows. The curtains are open allowing golden sunlight to filter through, it gives the room a warm orange glow, it catches on the limp figure lying on the hospital bed, in the middle of the room. People are there too, five people, they all look sad, broken. A woman, she looks the worst, shaking and manic.

Sitting in a chair, the cold plastic hard and uncomfortable, Kori hangs her head, her eyes red and puffy. She wraps her arms about herself, pulling her green cardigan closer; she's trying to hide, through her lashes she peers up at him, Richard. He looks so pale so vulnerable. He's hooked up to machines; life support, IV's, his covers tucked up to him tightly, boxing him in.

Richard, he is wrapped in gauzes scattered over his body, his arms are cut and bruised, marring his flesh, the once lightly tanned colour now, a sickly translucent white and marred. His lips once full and pretty are now swollen and cut. His eyes are empty hollows, sunken in and a red brownish colour, like bruised and beaten fruit.

She wants to touch him, but he is so fragile. She thinks she will break him, and he is cold and sweaty. His brow thick with perspiration, he twitches ever so often, his hands are almost see through, she can map each vein. She cannot help it, she cries, her tears quiet, desperate. A hand large and comforting rests on her shoulder, squeezing slightly. Turning Kori grips Victor's arm tightly, her face pressed into his forearm, her tears making his skin slick and glossy.

Bending Victor wraps his arms her about, like a cocoon. Victor's eyes are hard, and wet with tears he refuses to shed. He won't, can't. Someone needs to be strong, hold them together, since Dick's not here to do that. He feels Karen, place her hand on his back, rubbing it in small, circles; she feels it too. He can barely hear Rachael, but he knows she's there, her breathing is laboured and choppy, he can see through the corner of his eye Garfield stood, ram-rod straight, with his arms wrapped tightly around Rachael's waist, he trying to brave too.

The beeping of monitors fill the air, it's obnoxiously loud, a jarring noise in the silence, no one wants to acknowledge it, no one wants to see, they want to keep their rose coloured lenses on. They want to ignore the glaringly oblivious; something's so blatantly wrong. They want to disregard this, this, ache, problem.

She said she would not wait forever, but she would. Kori would wait for a life time, however long. Several life times, twice as long.

Richard's twitching violently now, frothing at the mouth, his head swinging widely, his bleeding more profusely now, his gauzes peeling off. Gasping Kori stands, rushing towards him, but someone a man, in a white coat elbows her out of the way. The bleeping has stopped, it starts in random bursts; he's flat lining.

The man, he's shouting something, frantic orders, he's barking instructions. Kori can barely catch the words he is saying. She tries to move forward again, but Victor's holding onto her, telling her to stay back, then she's screaming at him, her nails digging into his skin before she calms down. Slumping into him Kori lays lack in his grasp. Tears streaming down her face, Kori looks on. When did she become so weak?

The doctors are prodding him, stabbing needles into Richard's flesh, pressing cold calloused hands to his throat. Checking his pulse; nothing. They take out a defibrillator, big and bulky in size, and hook it up to him. The man in the white jackets yells orders; everyone takes a step back as he takes out two metallic pads, with a screech of the word clear he slams the pads to Richard's chest. Richard lurches forward; his eyes flashing open before, rolling into the back of his head.

His pulse is unsteady, jerky, the machine gives prolonged bleeps, every once in a while before, starting up anew; the beeps finally steady until they're not. It's a sick game.

Kori said she wouldn't wait forever. Now she would have to.

-END-

-Author's Note-

You have no idea how glad I am that this is finished. I mean this took me for-bloody-ever, I started writing it in January, and it's now May. If that's not procrastination I don't know what is. I need sleep

But more importantly, I have big fat thank you-s to give!

Big fat thank you to; Jade, Lewy and Andrew. Jade because, like, you're like the best person ever, and I love you for putting up with my admittedly self centred crap, and for giving your unbiased criticism. (Love me some Andy.)


End file.
